


Giving Thanks

by winter_angst



Category: Captain America (Movies), Political Animals, The Pillars of the Earth (TV)
Genre: Curtain Fic, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27699263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: It's just another Thanksgiving and they're thankful for that.
Relationships: Jack Jackson/Wanda Maximoff, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Giving Thanks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FantasticWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasticWinter/gifts).



Sheets of rain pounded against the forest floor. A meadow mouse took solace under fallen oak leaves, bounding between fat droplets of water, long furry tail wrapping around her when she took shelter. The leaf quivered under the force of the rain and she darted forwards again, a new leaf. Bit by bit she worked her way back towards her home. She had gotten too caught up in gorging on tubers, fat with her indulgence in preparation for the upcoming cold months. She could smell in the air, the season that would turn her world into ice and snow. Grass and tubers would be hard to come by so she stocked up now. She had thought she had more time and now she was paying for her mistakes with wet fur. Her threats were thin and far between, those who would prey on her snug and dry the way she wanted to be. She was getting close, slowly and calculating. Staying out of sight wasn’t a habit easily broken so she took it inches as time, trying to hear over the torrential rain fruitlessly. 

She darted out from under a leaf -- and just in time. A pair of blue and white New Balances landed on the leaf she had previously hidden under. The shoes belonged to man, unremarkable in every way, cutting through the backyard of a blue vinyl paneled house with a gable and valer roof with a dormer window. It’s lawn was well tended, a pile of leaves in a tidy pile beneath an oak tree, a rake resting against the trunk of the tree. A blue doberman barked at him through a sliding glass door where gel stick ons of turkeys and pumpkins and a lopsided ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ were stuck. 

“Easy,” the dog’s owner said, peering out through the rain streaming down the glass. He caught sight of a dark coat and a red hat. “Sit.” 

The dog sat with an unsettled whine and the man turned back to the counter top where his son, a small boy with chocolate curls, stood. “It’s a turkey see? My fingers are the feathers. Miss Wanda taught us that at school.” 

“I love it,” he said and added the piece of art to the rest of the fridge. He was rapidly running out of space and they would have to sit down and decide which art pieces should go into the album to make space for all the new pictures. “How about you distract Muffin with some toys, TJ?” 

Muffin turned her head at her name. It was the name the shelter had dubbed her with, mostly to take the edge off her cropped ears and docked tail. She was a protective dog, passionate about guarding her home and her keepers. Sometimes to such a fault that other dogs and people feared her. Her owner had taken to putting a nylon mesh muzzle when on walks to reassure others that they were safe. But there would be no dog park today due to the rain and because of Thanksgiving. 

TJ ran to get a squeaky hot dog and Muffin was distracted from the memory of someone daring to step onto her owner’s property. 

Her owner was a man of unremarkable height with neatly styled hair and chestnut eyes. He was wearing an apron stained but otherwise clean. He tapped his fingers on the counter eyeing the clock. It was almost thirty minutes now he’d been waiting for the sticks of butter he’d so foolishly forgotten. He had been quite busy preparing Thanksgiving dinner. There would be a slew of people in the stores scooping up last minute bits and pieces they’d forgotten about. He felt bad, he knew that his husband didn’t like large crowds but he hadn’t felt confident keeping an eye on the simmering pots in the stove and keeping TJ from dipping his fingers in the bag of mini marshmallows and lemon meringue pie. He feared his schedule disruption holding up the dinner. It was seven am and he was already feeling taxed by stress alone. It’d be worth it of course, it always was. But that didn’t mean he didn’t worry. He still wished his husband would return soon. He did arrive, just six minutes later and greeted him with an apology. 

“Sorry, sorry Brock. The lines were backed up to the aisles.” 

Relief flooded through Brock as he took the boxes from the bag. He could have hugged them. “It’s okay.”

He got busy making the herb compound mix and he clicked his tongue when he caught sight of his husband slipping mini marshmallows out of the bag. “You’re worse than TJ.” 

“I disagree. I think I deserve marshmallows after that outing.” 

“Jack.” 

“Brock.” 

“A handful but you have to share with TJ.” 

Jack grinned. He was tall, just toned enough that he wasn’t lanky. He had an optimistic gleam in his seaweed colored eyes and a wide friendly smile, a scar running from his lip to his chin from a childhood accident. He took the handful of marshmallows to the den where TJ was romping around with Muffin. She had a different way about playing, lightly chewing on her playmates arm with a growl that could easily be mistaken as aggression. When Muffin saw Jack she abandoned the squeaky hot dog and jumped up, seized Jack’s arm, teeth lightly pressing into his arm with a grumble before she detached and dove onto the squeaky toy. TJ got his feet, already keyed in on the treat. 

“You sneaked them?” he asked in a whisper with wide eyes. “Daddy’s gonna be mad.” 

“Daddy says we can have these but no more.” 

TJ’s eyes lit up. Today they were gray but tomorrow they may be blue. The color shifted often. They settled side by side on a well loved overstuffed sofa and together they split the marshmallow. Muffin sat along interested but Jack had to deny her. TJ told Jack of the craft on the fridge and Jack said he couldn’t wait to see it. He gave a run down of his playtime with Muffin and how excited he was for Jackie and Miss Wanda to come. 

“I get to see her when we’re not in school and it is really special because no one else gets to! But it’s mean to brag.” TJ told him with a grave expression. 

TJ took rules very seriously. He was a very passive child, one who wanted to befriend everyone to a fault. During recess he had a habit of falling into groups who teased him. He never understood when he was laughing with them or when they were laughing at him. But he never held a grudge and Wanda did her best to keep all her students safe from the cruelty of other children. But she could only be in so many places at once. Jack put on A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving and went to see if he could lend his hands to the Thanksgiving effort. 

He walked in on a horror scene. 

Brock was massaging butter under the turkey skin when Jack said, “Oh God. What did that poor turkey do to you to suffer like that.” 

Brock looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. “I do this every year. You’d think you would think you’d be used to it.”

“It’s horrifying.” 

“If you’re here to help wash the potatoes.” 

“Aye captain.” 

Jack grabbed the bag of russet potatoes and turned the table to the left sink and dug out the potato brush. Jack had thought it to be a silly purchase made by Brock after a few too many glasses of wine but it was actually quite nifty despite it’s ridiculous look. It was shaped as a potato with hard bristles on the underside. He turned the cold tap on and got busy scrubbing the dirt from the potatoes and setting them in the other sink when completed. Once he had the bag emptied he turned to Brock for further directions. 

“You can leave them. This is more of a prep than cooking. I wanted to get the cold stuff done.” Brock said. Jack was about to take his leave and work on updating notes on his charts when Brock halted him with a, “Actually do you mind making the watergate salad?” 

“I don’t understand why it got named that.” Jack said. “Also, how?” 

Brock reminded himself that Jack was out of his element and would need to be walked through the more complicated things. Not to say the salad was complicated. It wasn’t but Jack was trying. “You can pull it up on your phone. Mostly it’s just combining this in a bowl and stirring.” 

“That I think I can do.” 

“I assure you it’s less complicated than you think.” 

“I disagree.” 

Jack googled it and rounded up the ingredients: crush pineapple, crush pecans, pistachio jello, mini marshmallows (he stole a few and wasn’t sorry in the slightest), and whipped topping. It was as simple as Brock had suggested and he put cling wrap on top of it, slipping it into a crowded fridge. Brock had spent three days brining the turkey and Jack was eager to get a bite of it. He didn’t expect anything less than perfection; Brock wouldn’t stand for it. He was head chef and his high standards applied in his own kitchen as strictly as they did at the restaurant. He leaned against the counter and admired him. The way he commanded a kitchen was something to be admired. So in control, aware of every single moving part. 

Jack retired to the den where he oversaw TJ romping around with Muffin between watching the A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving after ensuring the game was being DVR’d. 

It was just another Thanksgiving morning, kept safe and dry despite the outside weather and it’s brisk bite. Their guests would arrive in a few short hours and a delicious feast while giving thanks to all the things they were so fortunate to have would come shortly afterward. 

** ** ** **

Thirty minutes away, in a small apartment building off Poplar and Oak a thin man stood staring at his closet. The bedroom around him was a bit cramped holding a queen sized bed with its sheets in a tangle in the middle, the comforter slipping off the bottom. Typically it would have been neatly made but today the occupants had pressing plans taking priority. There was a bureau pressed against the wall opposite of the bed where a small TV sat for nightime Criminal Minds binging. 

The man had tawny hair, kind eyes and usually a radiant smile. But today he wasn’t smiling, he was frowning slightly with a look of confusion written across his face. He turned away from the options crammed into it and called, “Wanda, what am I supposed to wear.” 

He stowed his hands in his pockets and started to the bedroom door to find her. She appeared there before he reached it looking a bit frazzled herself, red hair half braided and only her eye makeup done. “The vest.” 

Jackie stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “I’m not wearing a sweater vest, Wanda. I have more self respect than that.” 

Wanda laughed. “It looks nice on you! Put it on.” 

Jackie protested once more and she rolled her eyes, slipping past him. She braided as he walked and Jackie marveled her ability to multitask so effectively. Just walking and talking seemed like an impossible feat some days for him. Somehow she knew exactly where the offensive item of clothing was stored and soon a diamond patterned green and black vest was laying over the end of the bed with a white cotton button up and a black slacks. Jackie’s shoulders deflated a bit in defeat. He wasn’t surprised. When it came to arguments Wanda’s will always won out. 

“There you go,” she said cheerfully. 

Jackie sighed laboriously and got busy getting dressed. Wanda was still in her pajamas while she got ready, her process of getting ready much longer than Jackie’s. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to need an hour to properly get ready. Thankful he was born low-maintenance, he put on the dreaded outfit. Wanda dressed him more than he wanted to admit but he had to admit her idea of style was impeccable and he always looked great. It didn’t stop him from kicking up a fuss, however. Once dressed he strolled out of their bedroom. He walked down the short hallway and leaned against the wall opposite the open door of the bathroom where Wanda was blending her eyeshadow. 

“Not so bad, right?” she said, flicking a look at him. 

“I guess,” Jackie didn’t like to openly admit defeat but under the slightest pressure he gave way. “It looks better on than it does off.” 

“You should trust your girlfriend more.” 

Jackie frowned. “Fiancee,” he corrected. 

She smiled and it was dazzling. With her green eyes on the ring on her finger she said, “Fiancee,” in agreement. 

It was a modest ring, the best a foreman could afford but Wanda hadn’t seemed upset at the small diamond. She’d still said yes in the coffee shop they had their very first date at. It had been two months and it still made Jackie’s heart pick up in excitement that the woman before him was going to be his forever. “So what did we end up bringing?” 

“I’m glad you asked. Well, seeing as neither of us can cook worth a damn I went to the supermarket and found butter sculpted into a turkey and a few bottles of wine. I know Brock will appreciate the wine and TJ’s going to get a kick out of the butter.” 

“Sounds good.” 

She hummed in agreement. Jackie went and made himself a cup of coffee and checked out the sculpted butter himself. It certainly was something. Forty minutes later Wanda was wearing a lilac colored dress. She carried the butter and Jackie held the reusable bag with the wine. Wanda locked up behind them and they went down a steep set of stairs and braved the rain to a small Ford Focus parked on the street. The car was cold and damp. Wanda drove, leaving Jackie to hold the butter up away from the heat while it warmed up the air a bit. They only ran it for a few moments and the butter survived. They sang out of key to the radio and talked about what foods they were most looking forward to (“It’s hard to choose when it comes to Brock’s food though. Not everyone gets a gourmet meal for free.”). They parked beside Brock’s silver RAV-4 and Wanda cut off the engine. They could hear their dog, Muffin, barking inside. 

Jackie had harbored a fear of her for a while before he adjusted to her. Her way of showing affection was a bit off putting but he’d adjusted to it with his copious visits with their friends. Wanda cut the engine and leaned over to kiss him. “Ready?” 

“Ready.” 

Wanda grabbed the wine and Jackie held onto the butter as they raced through the rain again. Jack met them at the door with hugs. “I’m so happy you came.” 

TJ popped out immediately and his face lit up as he saw Jackie and Wanda. “Hi! Hi Miss Wanda! Hi Jackie! Guess what, me and papa ate marshmallows!” 

“You did? That sounds like a fun snack.” 

“It was! But we’re only allowed to have a few. Maybe daddy will let you have some. Daddy, can Miss Wanda have marshmallows too?” 

“With the meal, yes.” 

Brock was still in the kitchen, whisking something on the stove. He wouldn’t be talkative and everyone knew it. He took Thanksgiving seriously and everything had to be perfect. Jack accepted the wine and the butter, stowing the turkey in the fridge and putting the wine out the counter out of Brock’s way. He opened a bottle of Barefoot Pink Moscato and poured four glasses. Jack went to the fridge and got TJ a cup of apple juice in his Toy Story cup so he didn’t feel left out. He was content to chatter with Wanda at the table so Jackie and Jack chatted about work. 

They worked in vastly different fields: Jack was a doctor and Jackie ran construction sites. Two polar opposites drawn together by the holidays. They had met when Jackie’s team had reshingled their roof. Wanda had swung by and TJ had caught sight and ran out excitedly. The rest of it was history, a friendship formed that turned into something even more personal. Wanda and Jackie had somehow become an extension of their family and holidays became shared. Brock left things to simmer and played host for a bit, helping himself to a generous glass of wine. 

Muffin rested her head on Jackie’s leg and he scratched her behind her ear. She took his arm between her teeth with gentle pressure before she went to sit beside TJ who had cracked out of the coloring supplies and was making hand turkeys with Wanda. 

Everything was exactly as it should be. And Jackie was thankful for that. During the meal TJ rattled off a list of everything he was thankful for which included everyone at the table and Muffin, as well as all his friends and, of course, daddy’s pumpkin pie and marshmallows. It was one Thanksgiving of many to come and for that, they were all thankful.


End file.
